


invisible string (tying you to me)

by hecckyeah



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Astro Ambassadors, BUS Family - Freeform, Bus Kids - Freeform, Compilation, F/M, Ficlets, One-Shots, Originally Posted on Tumblr, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecckyeah/pseuds/hecckyeah
Summary: A collection of ficlets, one-shots, and drabbles that have so far been posted on my Tumblr but need a home of their own. Updated whenever I write something new or find something old in my archives! Mostly centered around Dousy, but will also sometimes include a few other characters and pairings!--1. a tea and cookies kind of night - (dousy)2. a (gray) white christmas - (dousy)3. now we get to fly - (dousy)
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. a tea and cookies kind of night

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Daisy/Sousa
> 
> For @angry-slytherin on Tumblr, who requested "the most random fic you can think of!"
> 
> **note: I take requests!! You can find me at @hecckyeah on Tumblr**

.

_**a tea and cookies kind of night** _

.

.

Daisy tried to stay quiet. She really did.

But the universe was not on her side that day, that much was for sure.

Her footsteps were light at first—careful and tentative, so as not to wake her exhausted, fast-asleep husband who snored (loudly) in their little bedroom. She made sure to wear thick, fuzzy socks and she knew where all the loose floorboards were. Daniel had just returned from a long, over-extended mission with Mack all the way in Hungary, and he more than deserved his beauty rest.

Daisy crept slowly toward the refrigerator and took a quick glance over at the clock on the stove. 12:47pm.

Perfect.

With a delicate touch, she removed a package of premade cookie dough from the designated drawer and laid it gently on the counter. Next, the cookie sheet and pair of spoons.

Nice.

By the dim light of the pendant lamp, she set to work. The dough was lined up in little rows like soldiers across the cookie sheet, in haphazard ball-shaped lumps, and she had even remembered to lay down parchment paper first. She remembered, with a shudder, the Great Cookie Fiasco of 2021. Speaking of which, Kora still owed her a knife.

Lost in her thoughts, Daisy didn’t realize the oven was heated. She cursed the loud beep it made, then jammed the sheet of cookies in. “Bake up,” she whispered affectionately.

Already growing impatient, she bounced on the balls of her feet and stared the cookies down as they baked. She hummed to herself and tapped her fingers on the countertop.

What did productive adults do when they were bored?

She took a quick inventory of the kitchen and tried to make a mental note to buy more fruit . . .

But she glanced away again, and her laptop caught her eye.

She settled herself on a stool at the island and opened her trusty computer . . . and she grinned at the page she’d left open.

_Lake Ontario Humane Society._

A pair of deep brown canine eyes stared back at her from the screen, and she swallowed past a lump in her throat. It wasn’t that she _couldn’t_ adopt a dog. Daniel was all for it, and Daisy wanted nothing more. The real problem was that she wanted to adopt _all_ the dogs. How was she supposed to choose just one, when so many sad eyes stared at her from behind those bars, looking all too familiar . . .

She gave herself a mental slap in the face. People picked out dogs all the time. It wasn’t _that_ big of a deal.

Maybe she should start with a fish instead.

If she hadn’t smelled the sharp, heavy smell of burned sugar, the house might have burned down.

With a _thud,_ she threw herself off the tall chair and bounded toward the oven. The cookie tray clattered onto the counter, and she gave a heavy sigh, slamming the oven door shut.

Daisy gingerly picked up one of the cookies. With an instant mental curse, she remembered it was scalding hot, promptly _yelped_ and threw the charred disk of sugar back onto the tray, then made a mad dash for the sink. She jammed her hand under the cold water and sighed in relief. “Stupid cookies and their stupid—” she muttered under her breath . . . and didn’t even realize the snoring in the next room had stopped.

“What did the cookies ever do to you?” a voice laughed behind her, and Daisy very nearly jumped out of her skin.

She whirled around and resisted the urge to throw her hand out in front of her. Instead, she gripped the countertop and let out a breath. “Oh, you scared me.”

Daniel grinned and ran a thumb over his red-rimmed, sleep-drugged eyes.

“Sorry,” Daisy said, quieter this time, then blinked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not with this racket,” he joked and swept a hand out, gesturing to the kitchen.

Daisy grimaced.

“I’m just jet lagged,” Daniel explained. “Wasn’t going to sleep long anyway.”

“Well,” she said, a grin lighting up her face. “If you’re hungry,” she stabbed one of the charred cookies with a fork and held it up for her husband to see, “I made dinner.”

“Oh, good,” he deadpanned. “One-thirty in the morning is just when I start wanting a—” he gingerly removed the cookie from the fork, “—good old flambé a la Daisy.”

“I’d say I’m making progress.”

He nodded earnestly, tossing the cookie back onto the sheet. It made a heavy _thunk_ and bounced a few times.

Daisy watched it roll and spin to a stop, still rock solid and charcoal-black. She snorted and glanced up to meet Daniel’s tired but laughing eyes. At least he saw the humor in this situation.

For a split second, she was filled with some indescribably intense emotion. The laughter they both shared and the late hour of the night and the absurdity of the situation caught up with her, mixed with the constant love she felt for this person. This person, who against all odds had _found_ her and chosen to stay with her, for no discernible reason except that he had felt . . . something. A connection, a duty, whatever it may have been. It brought them together, and now she could stand in her own kitchen with him, her _husband,_ as they trained for their next short mission to outer space and thought about adopting a dog.

“I love you,” she said simply through her residual giggles.

Daniel looked up and met her eyes, and she knew he may have been confused, but his open acceptance was enough for her. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, and landed a kiss on her forehead.

She clasped his hand and tried to suppress the sudden tears that sprung to her eyes. “Do you want some tea to put you to sleep?”

Running a hand over his face again, Daniel chuckled again and squeezed her hand. “I would love some tea. As long as you don’t burn it.”

.

.


	2. a (gray) white christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a drabble requested by @the-astro-ambassadors on Tumblr, with the prompt: "dousy + chills/music/gray"
> 
> enjoy!

**_._ **

**_a ~~gray~~ white christmas_ **

.

.

Daisy didn’t remember ever being so cold.

Not even the heaviest blanket could keep away the constant chills that racked her body. Nothing she did—nothing she could even think about doing—would ease the pain of the icy pellets running through her veins.

Her bunk on Zephyr Three was the warmest place she could find.

And even that was a stretch.

She rolled to the side and reached out a shaking, frozen hand to tap a few buttons on her nearby laptop. Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album rattled softly from the overused speakers.

Daisy breathed a sigh and screwed her eyes shut against the constant, painful shivering. The Christmases she’d spent in California, Arizona, and Mississippi had been her favorite. Warm, sunlit, maybe a trip to the beach if she was lucky. She hadn’t been grateful enough for them at the time … And eleven-year-old Mary-Sue had no way of knowing she would be spending her thirty-third Christmas stranded in a broken-down aircraft in the middle of nowhere on a frozen alien planet, lightyears away from home, so cold she thought for sure she would die of hypothermia …

A soft knock sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she called from beneath the blanket. 

A familiar voice made its way to her ears, and she poked the top of her head out to send a piercing glare at the intruder.

“Not so used to the cold?” Sousa wondered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“You could say that,” Daisy said. Her teeth chattered and her nose instantly froze upon contact with the air.

He smiled gently and extended a hand … which held a steaming mug. “Maybe some soup will help,” he offered. “Kora heated a pot up before she left.”

Daisy hesitantly unfolded herself from her cocoon, being sure to keep some of the blankets wrapped tightly around her as she sat up. “She couldn’t have warmed up the whole plane?”

“Didn’t want to fry the systems, I guess,” Sousa said. He sat down next to her and she greedily took the light gray, patterned mug, wrapping her hands around the sides to absorb all the warmth possible.

Sousa shivered and let out a long breath, tugging his own sweater and coat tighter around him … then tilted his head and glanced back at the laptop. “Really— Sinatra? People still listen to him?”

Daisy could slowly feel the cold retreat as she sipped the blessed, warm, creamy chicken soup. For a moment, the cold almost felt slightly bearable … Only helped by the familiar presence sitting beside her. She nodded and smiled. “Still the only valid Christmas music.”

With a disbelieving chuckle, Daniel shook his head.

“Didn’t think I’d be spending Christmas like _this.”_ Daisy swept a hand in the air, gesturing to the whole plane.

Sousa pulled his left leg up and rested his foot on the edge of the bedframe. “It’s not the worst I’ve had,” he said quietly. He glanced sideways, and Daisy met his eyes with a smile.

“Yeah … me neither,” she admitted.

They were quiet.

Daisy thought about all the years she’d spent at the orphanage, pretending her own few belongings were brightly wrapped new gifts under a tree, because the nuns didn’t believe in spoiling kids with presents. She remembered the years with different families … never knowing if she’d have to be sent back to St. Agnes. She thought of even the years with SHIELD, the times she’d feared for her life and the fate of the whole world.

In the grand scheme of things, being stranded on an alien ice planet with a broken-down spaceship and her little family on board … Well, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.

She finished her soup, sighed contentedly, and set the mug down on her little bedside table. _White Christmas_ played through the tinny speakers, and for a few moments Daisy forgot how cold she was. With a yawn, she scooted to the left and wrapped her arm around Sousa’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. He snaked an arm into the cocoon of blankets, pulling her even closer.

She sighed again. “I should probably get down to controls. Kora will be back soon.”

“No rush,” Daniel said, then laughed. “No one else wants to move, either. Lewis found the last warm spot by the engines and won’t leave.”

A sudden laugh escaped her, and she leaned in closer, trying to leech any body heat she could from her boyfriend. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re also jealous.”

“No,” she said quietly. Her fingers found his ice-cold hand, and she held it tightly. “I’m really not.”

He apparently caught her meaning, and she could feel him relax just a little, squeezing her hand and leaning his head onto hers.

Eventually, they would need to get work done and get this plane in the air again. But for now … on this beautiful, strange, musical Christmas Eve … she was weirdly happy.

And she barely even felt the cold anymore.

.

.


	3. now we get to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Daisy/Sousa
> 
> Extra-short ficlet for @beth-is-rainpaint on Tumblr, who requested: "Something Dousy-themed based on 'Constellate' by Fleurie"
> 
> <3 <3

.

_**now we get to fly** _

.

.

“Do you ever think about it?”

The room is dark and warm, glittering with the reflection of billions of stars and empty nothingness.

“How there’s at least one timeline where we . . . don’t meet? And you die?”

His breaths are slow and deep, and his eyelids flutter open. “I try not to,” he almost whispers, unwilling to pierce the tranquility.

“Me too,” she says with a long sigh and only clenches her fist harder.

Outside the metal hull of the ship, empty space presses in on them as if it were trying to dissolve them. Intruders.

.

.

“I wish I could tell them about this.”

His eyes are fixed on the nebula. The first one they’ve seen. It’s blue and yellow and swirling beauty in the dull void of space. It’s ethereal.

She looks up at his face, full of wonder and sadness.

“We never even had an idea . . .” he sweeps a hand out in front of him, toward the nebula, “these could exist.”

“There’s a lot you didn’t know.” She hopes her words are reassuring. Comforting, maybe.

It seems to work. He nods, still deep in thought. He’s good at acclimating to modern times. But he left part of him in the 50s. And that part is filled with regret. Even if he hides it well.

.

.

They never planned to share a bed on the ship. But it happens anyway.

She can’t sleep. He hates the cold. They’re drawn together like two stars, orbiting closer and closer until they collide in a shower of beauty and fire.

They find they can’t be long apart from the other.

He’s engrossed in a book. She’s busy teaching the rookies. Always within eyesight.

She’s doing inventory. He cleans his handguns. Just across the room.

They share touches, just barely whispers.

A thumb across his shoulder blade in passing. A quick squeeze of their fingers together.

Outside, in the endless vacuum of space, the stars wink their approval.

.

.

Their ship touches down on the tarmac, and she should be relieved. But the ship was their haven. She’s going to miss it.

“We should go back,” she says.

They haven’t been on earth for more than five minutes.

Instead of returning to space, they get in a car and drive. No destination. No plans.

Just the two of them.

She doesn’t want this feeling to end.

“I’m glad,” he says, “that we never meet in that one timeline.” His hands grip the steering wheel a little too tight, and his eyes blink a little too hard. He clenches his jaw.

The wind picks up pieces of her hair and sends them twirling around. It’s nice to feel wind again.

He explains. “It’s harder to lose something than to never have it in the first place.”

Above them, the stars say their hellos. And their goodbyes.

The heavy, tugging feeling in her chest grounds her.

He’s right.

.

.


End file.
